Árdís - 01.01.1953, Qupperneq 51

Ársrit Bandalags lúterskra kvenna
49
“Our institutions are overcrowded. Much as they would like
to, our overworked nurses have no time to coddle a child. I have
in mind a wee girl of four months. She was in a bad state when
she came to us. And she isn’t much better, though at last I’ve found
a formula that agrees with her. But I fear it is her nerves. You are
just the one to take care of her.”
Having visions of a pretty, chubby child, Grace said, “You say
she isn’t sick.”
“No . . . not really. It would be a great help if you took her
for a while.”
Grace wondered how she could get out of this. She did not
want to grant this request, but found herself saying hesitantly, “I
could try.” Then added quickly. “Only for a short time.”
“Good,” said Dr. Midfjord, with a broad smile. “Marge will be
pleased.”
“Who is she? If it’s the child’s mother, and she wants the baby
off her hands while she goes gadding. I refuse.”
“This child is motherless,” the doctor said. “And Marge Hanson
is a nurse in the Children’s Hospital.”
“Oh,” Grace said weakly.
“Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll bring the child.” Belatedly he
grabbed a prescription pad and scribbled on it. “Take one pill at
bedtime,” he said, handing her a slip of paper.
The appointment was over; Grace rose to her feet, and the
doctor escorted her to the door.
As she walked along the street, Grace was in a daze. She was
almost as stunned as if Dr. Midfjord had informed her that she had
an incurable disease.
Grace slept well that night, but she knew it was the effect of
the sleeping pill she had taken. This morning she worked with
forced energy, for she must get her house in order before the baby
arrived. She watered her house plants, noticing that the gloxinias
were in bud. She cut down the Easter lily and hyacinths and took
the pots to the basement. She ran the vacuum over the unlittered
rugs. Then while dusting the small grand piano she struck a few
chords, remembering Elaine’s clear contralto as she accompanied
her, and her son’s deep voice in popular songs. But that was over
and done with; now she never touched the instrument.